


Of adjustments and resignation

by Elisexyz



Series: Demon!Harvey AU [6]
Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Demon Harvey, Demon!Harvey, Gen, Hellhounds, Pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-01-26 10:31:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21372700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: Five reasons why a human shouldn’t adopt an hellhound – pardon,hellpuppy.
Relationships: Mike Ross & Harvey Specter, Mike Ross/Harvey Specter
Series: Demon!Harvey AU [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/809049
Comments: 66
Kudos: 362





	Of adjustments and resignation

**Author's Note:**

> .......So. It's been, uh, a minute LOL.  
Honestly, there is literally one (1) reason why I'm here now: you guys have been leaving such wonderful, enthusiastic and not at all pushy comments on this series that it prompted me to check if I had anything outlined for it. I found something, and then I just......did it. Thank you so much for all the nice comments you left me in spite of the latest fic being over a year old, I really, really appreciate it.  
Given that it's been that long since I've last written Marvey, I'm not sure how good this came out, I feel _so_ rusty, but hopefully you will enjoy <3

1.

Harvey thinks that, by now, he has come to expect the worst from Mike. Yet, sometimes he can still surprise him.

“_So, I was wondering_—” Mike begins, unfazed by Harvey’s already resigned tone of voice when he picked up the phone. “—_how do you take care of an hellhound?”_

Harvey, half-way through taking off his tie, stops dead on his tracks, blinking as if that could help him gain any clarity in the face of the absurd question.

“Excuse me?” he eventually asks, because perhaps he heard wrong: he’s had a long day, it’s raining and he doesn’t like chilly temperatures, he’d probably need some rest—

“_I mean, is it like with a normal dog? I_—” Mike gets cut off by a crashing sound in the background. When he begins to intimate to someone – or rather, something –, to ‘stop’ and ‘no, get off that’, Harvey has the sinking suspicion that he knows what’s going on.

Except—come on, Mike couldn’t be _that_ stupid.

Harvey pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. For a blissful moment, he lives in a world of darkness, no humans, no _Mike_, no absurd problems. “Tell me there isn’t an hellhound in your house right now.”

The pause that follows is already incriminating enough.

“_Well—I could lie, but I really need to know what to feed him—or her. I don’t know, I can’t see it_.”

Oh, come on—he can’t _see_ it. Mike has a hellhound in his house, for some godforsaken reason, and he is trying to figure out what he’s supposed to feed it, instead of _running_ like any normal person would.

Harvey is almost tempted to ask how exactly he came to share an apartment with a hellhound, but he can picture it perfectly well: an invisible dog, soaking wet under the rain, comes to nuzzle against Mike’s ankle. The kid, whose common sense makes an appearance no more than once a month, decides that leaving the poor thing to freeze in the storm would be a crime.

(Eventually, the kid gets eaten alive. The end.)

“_Harvey?”_ Mike calls out, slightly impatient, even if he has barely been waiting ten seconds. “_Are you there? Do you know what hellhounds eat?”_

“Humans,” Harvey deadpans then. He quickly walks up to the drawer where he keeps his demon knife, which should be just as effective on an hellhound. “They eat _humans_, Mike,” he repeats, just in case he hasn’t heard. “Speaking of which, weren’t you afraid of hellhounds anyway?” And sensibly so, he might add.

Mike’s only defence is: “I’m pretty sure it’s a hellpuppy.”

Harvey appears right into his apartment a second later, the phone still at hand and feeling a brief rush of satisfaction when his sudden appearance at least startles Mike to death. It serves him right, that idiot.

(After he has verified for himself that it is actually a puppy, not a fully grown hellhound, that he seems to be rather fond of Mike, for some reason, and he can’t manage to successfully argue he _really_ shouldn’t keep a pet so strongly inclined to eat him, Harvey sighs, resining himself to just getting his hands on a pair of glasses touched by holy fire, so the kid can at least _watch_ as the damn thing tries to kill him.)

2.

An associate showing up for work already yawning, big dark circles under his eyes and his eyelids half-way closed, is probably anything but a good sign.

“Need I remind you that we have a whole work day ahead of us and you are _not_ allowed to be tired yet?” Harvey points out, crossing his arms as Mike unceremoniously drops on the couch in his office, leaning his head back with a deep inhale.

“I know, I know,” Mike mutters, suffocating another yawn in his palm. “I’m sorry, I haven’t—slept much.”

Harvey snorts. “And why is that?” He gets the feeling that he knows the answer, which is precisely why he wants to hear him _say_ it.

“Rinty wouldn’t shut up,” Mike mutters, rubbing his face with one hand. “And he kept jumping on me to play. Hellhounds do sleep, right?”

As a matter of fact, Harvey can’t even properly enjoy being right, because he gets stuck on a very painful detail— “_Rinty_?” he echoes, thoroughly scandalized. “You called him _Rinty_?”

Mike shrugs, glancing at him. “Like Rin Tin Tin, you know?” he explains. “From the movies. I attached a little bell to him—sounded funny.” 

Right. Of course. Rin Tin Tin because of the little bell—if Harvey still had a soul, he’d bet on it that Mike came up with that while sleep deprived.

The sight of Mike slumped on the couch like that is pitiful, really. Harvey sighs, electing to delay the making fun of to when the kid will be awake enough to properly suffer through it.

“You have thirty minutes to sleep,” he eventually declares, waving his hand dismissively when Mike looks up to him like he has just grown a second head. “Just do it where there aren’t glass walls, you are supposed to be working.”

Mike looks so overjoyed his eyes are probably sparkling.

(When he trips on himself scrambling off the couch, at least Harvey knows that he made a sound decision.)

3.

The following day, Mike comes to work wincing at every step.

“I tripped,” he admits, a touch embarrassed. “I was tired, and I forgot the glasses, so I didn’t see Rinty and, well—” He gestures vaguely, and Harvey tries not to regret his life choices too much – the hideous name that is apparently sticking in spite of Mike having had enough sleep to know better doesn’t help matters.

(There’s a tiny part of Harvey that only wants to rip the dog a new one for hurting him, accidentally or not, but he supposes it wouldn’t be appreciated. Fortunately, Mike has been sensible enough to keep his new pet out of Harvey’s hair.)

4.

“_No_,” is Harvey’s immediate reaction. “Absolutely not.”

It has, surprisingly enough, been a while since the last time he has seriously wanted to slam the door in Mike’s face, but seeing him on his doorstep holding his pet hellhound in his arms seems to do the trick.

“Come on—” Mike begins, pleading eyes fixated on him as the hellhound nuzzles against his neck.

“_Mike_,” he warns, threateningly, though apparently not enough, because Mike doesn’t look fazed in the least.

“He was crying when I tried to leave,” he only points out, bouncing a little as if to get a better hold of his pet. Or maybe he’s just hoping that if he manages to shift Harvey’s attention to the ‘hellpuppy’ he’ll be able to pull at his – non-existent, unfortunately for him – heartstrings. Harvey can only think of how _weird_ it is to see a killing machine cuddling with a human.

(Though he supposes if _anyone_ could end up cuddling with a hellhound, that would be Mike Ross.)

“Please?” Mike adds, as innocently as possible.

Harvey draws a heavy sight, knowing as soon as he can’t hold Mike’s huge eyes that he can only budge. “Fine,” he mutters, stepping aside to let them in. “But if he breaks anything, I’m eating him for dinner.”

(Rinty, it turns out, seems to like him, perhaps on principle, given that he is a demon. Harvey finds him nuzzling against his ankles too, a couple of times as they work their case, and, though he’d never admit it, he ends up slipping him some meat from his dinner.)

5.

“So—uhm, Harvey?”

Mike’s gigantic, nervous smile is a terrible sign. Perhaps almost as much as the fact that Harvey found him already in his office to begin with.

He raises his eyebrows questioningly, wondering if it’d be too optimistic to hope that Mike only killed someone and is in need of help from someone that would be willing to hide a body.

“Don’t get mad, okay?” Mike continues, which brings Harvey’s already low expectations all the way down to hell.

“Is it something that I am going to want to kill you over?” he asks, deadpan, to which Mike _hesitates_. Great.

“Hopefully not?” he concedes, with a tentative smile. “I mean, I think you’ve grown to like Rinty—a bit? Right?”

It’s then that Harvey’s eyes dart to a dark shadow moving from its hiding spot behind his couch, and yes, he absolutely wants to kill Mike over this. “_Seriously_?” he asks, casting a brief glance outside to make sure that there isn’t anyone watching. Though, it occurs to him a moment later, regular humans wouldn’t see much either way.

“No one saw!” Mike immediately defends himself, raising his hands up. “Look, I’m sorry, but the neighbours were complaining that he barks too much while I’m away and—can you just keep an eye on him? No one will notice, I promise!”

Harvey crosses his arms. “What exactly makes you think he won’t start barking as soon as you walk out?”

“He likes you,” he immediately counters. “You always slip him food, don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Of course he has.

Mike has developed the habit of bringing his pet along whenever he shows up on Harvey’s doorstep, which means that he has had enough time to get at least used to its presence—still, that doesn’t mean that he ever wished to play dog-sitter, and much less at his workplace.

“Fine,” Harvey eventually capitulates, mentally rolling his eyes at himself, even more so when Mike’s radiant smile makes him feel a lot better than it should. “I’ll look after your pet hellhound, just get to work already.”

“Aye aye, Captain!” Mike cheerfully declares, before heading out with a mock salute and a grin still plastered on his face.

Harvey watches him go, shaking his head slightly before his eyes move back to the hellhound. Rinty looks up to him, wriggling his tail and drooling all over the floor.

(He really did not need _two_ puppies in his life.)

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates comments, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


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